


florida sporting

by neytirijade



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Beach Sex, F/M, Team Building Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 04:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15655656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytirijade/pseuds/neytirijade
Summary: Mulder is a little frustrated with Scully's outfit choice.





	florida sporting

**Author's Note:**

> Ho-kay. This is un-betaed, haphazard and probably really bad and possibly not completely consistent/coherent. What can I say? It’s been a long time since I’ve written.
> 
> Tagging @viceversawrites and @softnow because, though this came out different than I wanted, it is officially my entry into the 50 States challenge. Hopefully not the worst one. We’ll see.

She’s approaching the pavilion, desperate to rinse the sand from her heated skin, when a large hand grabs her by the waist and pulls her behind the concrete bathrooms. 

Scully yelps and, upon seeing who it is who grabbed her, attempts to glare up at the person in question– but whatever she begins to say dissolves at the tip of Mulder’s tongue, which is now lathing at the salt-slick skin along her shoulder.

“M-Mulder,” she barely whispers, her body going electric at the touch of his lips.

“Did you think you were going to get away with this, Agent Scully?” He sinks his teeth in her shoulder. She wants to push him away, tell him he’s going to leave a fairly large bite mark on her, but instead she moans.

“Get…. Get away with what?” She can’t talk, not when his fingers dip under her knees to lift her off the ground.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

And she does. Even now, one of Mulder’s hands begins stroking, ever so slowly, up the bare expanse of her inner thigh, fumbling lightly with the miniskirt she opted to wear (and yes, 95% of her decision was to get a rise out of her partner, if not for the ninety-eight degree Florida heat).

She decides to play dumb. “N-no, I just–” Scully trembles in his grasp, and instead of finishing her sentence, she inhales a gulp of air. His fingers now play with the cotton of her panties, which she doesn’t think have ever gotten that soaked that quickly.

Mulder doesn’t reply. Instead, his hands come up underneath her tank top and yanks it over her head. He groans when he sees she’s braless.

“You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you, Scully?” He palms her breasts with rough fingers, and then slips back between her thighs and under her panties.

“Fuck, yes,” she whines against his chest, her soft body arching against the solid muscle of his. 

“You taste like fucking candy,” he says, his tongue against her pulse point. 

His fingers, deft and slick with her cum, move higher and hit her clit. “Mulder,” she keens in his ear. “Mulder.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Fuck me. Right now.”

And he does. He turns her around, sets her on the concrete step that outlies the pavilion, and pulls her rough against him. With a quick check to his surroundings, making sure they’re alone, Mulder yanks her panties to her ankles and unbuckles his belt. Scully writhes against him, her hand reaching behind her to palm him through his jeans before he’s able to pull them down. “Fuck, Scully,” he says, swats her hand away, and then shoves inside her so hard, she almost topples off the concrete step. 

Later, when they’ve returned to the team building exercise back out on the beach, Scully will flush deep red when one of the agents comments on their appearance: 

“Looks like you two got your exercise for the day, no?”


End file.
